


Like No Other Child

by Cottontail



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Angst, M/M, Mpreg, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-02
Updated: 2011-04-02
Packaged: 2017-10-17 11:08:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/176230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cottontail/pseuds/Cottontail
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The unplanned domestic life John never expected to have out in the middle of the Pegasus galaxy. Includes love, loss, grief, eventual acceptance and hope.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like No Other Child

**Author's Note:**

> Original LJ post with author notes [here.](http://cottontail.livejournal.com/85046.html)

~~~

Andrew Sheppard McKay was with them for exactly four years and six months. Barely enough time to make a mark in the world but just enough time to alter the entirety of John’s life.

The night he died a family of whales visited Atlantis, surfacing and diving to splash tails in the dark waters of the ocean.

“Migration. They always come closer this time of year, the moon is full, they’re more visible,” Rodney explained in a hollow voice beside John.

He listened and didn’t disagree, but knew, despite Rodney’s rationalization, that they both wanted to believe it was Andy bringing the whales closer that particular night.

~~~

“Where are we going?” John asked for the third time in as many minutes, his voice echoing off the empty halls.

They were trying to finish a walk-through on the lower levels in the eastern side of the city. It had been a long day and the rest of the exploratory teams were sent back up to the mess for dinner. John volunteered to tag along while Rodney chased down this one last thing that just _had to be found._

Rodney, engrossed in the readings from his notebook computer, didn’t answer. John’s stomach growled as they rounded a final corner and continued down a long hall. Walls lit up minimally in reaction to the ATA gene as they passed. John found himself wishing he’d taken Lorne up on his offer to assist Rodney with this one.

“Ah! This is it,” Rodney stopped suddenly, causing John to walk into him. “Watch it, will you?”

“This is _what_ , Rodney?” John asked, stepping back and scowling at the door in front of them. He shifted his P-90 to a more comfortable position at his side.

“This is the room Radek found on the map system. I thought I told you about this.”

John shrugged. Possibly Rodney did tell him, but John received so much new information on a daily basis, he couldn’t always sort all of it into the appropriate memory banks. Naturally some things went in one ear and out the other.

Rodney sighed. “It was cross-referenced in the Ancient database with words roughly translated to mean genesis or creation.”

John blinked. “And?”

Rodney sighed again with his usual exasperation. “Well, I thought it would be interesting. You know, maybe this is where the city started or something.”

“Or maybe the genesis reference has something to do with Origin and the Ori will come to Pegasus if we open this door.”

Rodney stared at him. “I should have just brought Radek down for this one. Fine, I get it. You’re grumpy because we missed dinner and you wanted to go flirt with that new nurse, whats-her-name. But you know, the quicker we get in there the quicker we can get back up there and eat. I for one-”

“Okay, whatever, lets just do this,” John waved a hand over the panel sensor and the door slid open with a slow hiss.

A low level radiance grew within the room as John entered and Rodney followed. They walked the perimeter and it became brighter, enveloping them when they met at the center.

“Anything?” John asked.

Rodney frowned at his notebook then stepped up onto the single console in the room. It instantly turned bright under his step, a small hum vibrating through the floor. John stepped up beside him and Rodney set his computer down in favor of all the bright buttons and readings on the console.

“What is it?” John asked, itching to touch something, just to see the result.

“Well, if I knew that I wouldn’t have us down here investigating, would I?” Rodney reached out and poked a few things tentatively. Nothing happened.

John decided to try one of the brighter blue controls and gave it a gentle tap of a finger. The hum grew stronger as a shaft of light flashed down on the both of them. Rodney darted away, having been through previous bad experiences with ancient devices. John inexplicably grabbed him by the arm and held him to the spot.

“Let go,” Rodney hissed.

He tried to let go but it was as if his body wasn’t his own any longer. His fingers wouldn’t loosen on Rodney’s arm. “I can’t,” he said.

“What do you mean you can’t? What did you touch?”

“I don’t know.”

They shared a moment of panic, both held to the spot by some invisible force. But other than the overwhelming urge to keep Rodney right there next to him, John felt no danger. It was just a warm light enveloping them both; blue, then green, fading to a gentle silver before vanishing.

John found himself able to release the grip on Rodney who rubbed at his upper arm then shoved at him in retaliation. “Thanks for the bruise.”

“Didn’t do it on purpose,” John replied.

“Do you feel weird at all? I mean other than your usual weird?” Rodney asked, picking his notebook back up and scanning over the readings.

John scowled at him. “No.”

They tried to make it come back. John touched the control again but nothing happened. He thought “on” at it and “come back” over and over; Rodney searched in vain for other secret consoles hiding in the floor. Nothing worked.

“Huh,” Rodney finally said. He ran a few more scans then proclaimed it “worthless.”

Weeks passed before the first sign showed up.

Fatigue.

John was accustomed to exhaustion, the Pegasus galaxy doesn’t allow for much downtime. This was not the same - it was persistent and demanding that he take notice. Each night it pulled him down into a cocoon of sleep filled with vivid dreams.

The next sign was hunger. He started taking double portions at dinner and craved fruit. Cantaloupe for example; there was no god damned cantaloupe on Atlantis. Nor was there any cantaloupe-like substitute on the mainland. He’d never been particularly interested in cantaloupe one way or the other before. It became an obsession.

It was apparent something was very wrong when he spent a solid twenty minutes trying to impart to Teyla what a cantaloupe tasted like.

“It’s soft and round. It tastes like… kind of like a white peach but different. It’s a melon. You know?”

She humored him and nodded serenely. “I believe I understand. Yes.”

“Does anyone grow that kind of thing in Pegasus? Will they trade for it?”

“I’m sorry, I do not recall ever having come across a food like that before.”

John was crushingly despondent for days afterwards. One day he made a detour to the botany labs where he asked about cantaloupe seeds and the possibility of growing some. Katie Brown gave him a sad smile and quietly informed him they didn’t have cantaloupe seeds, but they had planted some watermelon, which would be ripe within the next few months.

He became irritable. One morning he snapped at Ronon for running ahead too fast during their jog.

“What’s wrong with you? You’re acting like McKay,” Ronon growled.

“No I’m not,” he answered, defensive for reasons he couldn’t explain. “Just tired.”

Ronon scowled. “Lately, you’re always tired.”

John leaned against the railing over the bridge-way, breathing deeply against a cramp in his side. Ronon raised a brow. “I know,” John agreed.

A week later Teyla found him curled in the armory, trying to get in a power-nap before the evening briefing.

“Perhaps you should see Dr. Beckett,” she said when he opened his eyes to find her kneeling next to him.

John sighed and stared at the gentle blues and greens of the ceiling. “I’ll be fine.”

Teyla looked skeptical.

The armory smelled of oil from the weapon cleaning kits; a scent he’d always identified as relaxing; mission over; time to settle down, clean the weapons and think about dinner. But now it made his stomach flip over, and he was suddenly and disturbingly nauseated.

“Okay. Let’s go.”

In the infirmary Teyla stayed with him, listening to small beeps from a nearby monitor as John sat on an exam table. Beckett had poked and prodded then left to check test results only to return with nothing.

“Colonel,” Beckett said voice uncertain, “The blood tests don’t indicate anything unusual. None of the other scans show anything either.” He took a seat on a nearby stool, staring at John in puzzled fascination. “Given your symptoms: exhaustion, craving odd foods, unusual hunger, nausea… Well, if you were a woman I’d say you were in the first trimester of pregnancy.”

John glared and Teyla made a small amused noise beside him. Beckett rolled his stool a few feet away from John. “Look, I’m afraid I just don’t have the foggiest idea how to explain this one, Colonel. I’d like to do a few more scans though and research your symptoms in the Ancient database. Until then, I’m going to say this is a simple case of too much work and not enough relaxation.”

“Perhaps something happened on one of the recent missions?” Teyla suggested. John thought back and could see Teyla doing the same.

“It could just as easily have been something you touched here on Atlantis,” Beckett said.

And John abruptly remembered the room and something sank in the pit of his stomach at the memory. Apparently Rodney had been wrong. It wasn’t a worthless room at all.

~~~

Andy’s room doesn’t hold many possessions and John wondered why they didn’t save more. Even when they knew it would be important; when they knew he wouldn’t grow up.

Packing it away was nothing compared to the days John spent digging through and trying to clear all the remnants of his father’s house after the accident.

They kept scribbled drawings on brightly colored construction paper, some clothing, cheap plastic toys. Harvey, the stuffed bunny with silken ears. Andy used to pacify himself with those ears when upset or tired, used to rub them between little fingers and press a cheek to the fur.

John resisted the urge to press his face into the plush toy and inhale for any remaining scent of Andy.

Of course this wasn't the original Harvey. The original was lost when Andy “accidentally” shoved him down an open air duct in Rodney’s labs, to be lost forever in the bowels of lower Atlantis. It had taken a month to obtain a new Harvey from the Daedalus run and then John had to secretly smuggle him into Andy’s room and leave him in a strategic area for viewing upon waking the next morning. There was an elaborate story Rodney concocted about Harvey exploring the lower levels and being endowed with a cleaner, fresher bunny appearance. Which Andrew, at two and a half years, had no issues with accepting as truth.

There were a few pictures, mostly from random events, such as birthday parties, but not enough candid moments. Neither John nor Rodney were photographers.

“No one said anything about afterwards,” Rodney said from the doorway, pulling John from his memories.

John stared at him, Harvey held tightly in his fingers. Rodney had Andy’s eyes, or the other way around. Because they were Rodney’s eyes before they were Andrew’s.

“Missing him, you know?” Rodney continued, apparently not expecting a response. One hand raised in mid-gesture then dropped. He looked past John, to the mobile of little airplanes hovering over the bed. “No one said how… insurmountable it is.”

~~~

Rodney and a team of scientists scanned through the room in the lower eastern levels again but came up with little.

“A blip of energy from the console but otherwise not a lot going on down there,” he reported back in the briefing with John, Beckett and Elizabeth. His eyes darted to John then away, like he might break from the news.

“John? You’re still having the symptoms?” Elizabeth asked tentatively.

“Yes,” he muttered, pretending the spot on the wall behind her was very interesting.

“And you have none of these symptoms?” She asked, turning from John to Rodney.

“Me? Uh, no. Well, I’m always hungry so… Though I did have a craving for chocolate the other day, but who doesn’t? And I’m always cranky and tired,” he looked at John with a grin, “Perhaps you need more caffeine in your life.”

John glared. Rodney shrugged.

“I would say it’s not healthy to consume caffeine while pregnant, but in this case –” Carson abruptly shut his mouth when John turned the glare on him.

“I’m not pregnant,” John gritted out between his teeth.

“Of course not,” Elizabeth said and gave Beckett a scolding look. She shifted a bit in her seat, glanced down at the file in front of her then back up at them. “John, perhaps Carson’s original diagnosis was right. Maybe you need some down time.”

“Elizabeth, I’m not –”

“Just a week, I’m taking your team off the mission roster for a week. Lorne’s team can fill in for you.”

“Great, more lab time for me,” Rodney grinned. John wanted to smack him upside the head but couldn’t reach from across the table. “Are we done here?”

“You too, Rodney. You get some rest in,” Elizabeth did her menacing look.

Rodney nodded and waved a hand. “Yes, yes, whatever.”

John felt vindicated that evening at dinner when Rodney sat his tray down with a heavy hand and the first words from his mouth were, “Cantaloupe. No cantaloupe. Can you believe it?”

A week of relaxation didn’t curb the cravings or other odd symptoms. There was nothing for it. But after a month with no answers Beckett came back with something at last.

“I’ve found some references to that room you and Rodney visited. It’s not much to go on but it does appear to have something to do with procreation and birth. I think perhaps it does a DNA scan on the participants then somehow procreation takes place. I’m not certain of the exact purpose of the room but it was possibly an experiment in infertility.”

“WHAT?” Rodney nearly flew from his seat across the briefing room table and Elizabeth reached over to take hold of his arm.

“Calm down, Rodney. Seeing as you are both male I don’t believe the Ancient tech worked as it should have. It simply imprinted upon each of you the marker of pregnancy, but of course the reality of it would not be possible.”

John chewed his lip and tried not to laugh at Rodney who was absently feeling his stomach and looking self-conscious.

“So, what are you saying, Carson? They’ll have these symptoms for how long?” Elizabeth asked with a bit too much amusement in her voice.

“Well, obviously for the full gestation of nine months. I should think it would disappear after that time.”

“Thank God,” Rodney mumbled and John couldn’t have agreed more.

The following months they learned to deal with non-pregnancy and as time passed some of the more irritating symptoms did disappear. Beckett suggested Dramamine for the “morning sickness.” Rodney seized on that and always had a packet available before each mission. Rodney’s own symptoms were not as strong as John’s, which they attributed to John’s stronger ATA gene.

Of course word got around the city. Oddly the Marines treated John with kid gloves, which irritated the hell out of him.

“And don’t crowd the Colonel!” Lorne yelled at one point before a raid on a suspected Wraith nest. “I know he’s important to you all but he’s not going to break if he gets into the action now and then.”

John tried not to be too pissy over the teasing and stupid pregnancy comments he received. He wasn’t knocked up. He just wasn’t. Rodney on the other hand didn’t take the teasing lightly and people quickly learned to curb themselves around him. But while some symptoms went away, others appeared.

“Last night, I woke up with this terrifying craving for an orange sherbet milkshake,” Rodney grumbled as they met one morning in the gate room with Teyla and Ronon.

“I spent half the night cleaning my room,” John countered. “Almost took down my Johnny Cash poster.”

“Hmm… nesting,” Rodney said nonchalantly. “I’m not there yet. Thank God.”

“If you like, I could bring some extra pillows and blankets to your room,” Teyla offered with a smile. What was most disturbing was that John gave it careful consideration for a minute.

“It’s been about eight months now,” Ronon rumbled as the gate was dialed.

“And your point?” Rodney asked, checking the safety on his weapon.

“Maybe it will be over soon.”

For unexplainable reasons, John was filled with cold terror and an aching emptiness at the thought; an overpowering urge to protect something washed through him. He and Rodney shared a moment of loaded understanding before they all moved towards the open event horizon of the gate.

Something else in the past months had been growing and it was more than a simple side effect. It terrified John that they hadn’t been able to figure out what or where it was yet. But it was a presence that had been growing within his and Rodney’s conscious minds every day and every night for the past eight months. Something that was always just out of reach. Letting it go, voluntarily or not, was a disturbing prospect.

“It’s perfectly normal to have these feelings towards the end of a pregnancy,” Heightmeyer said in her soft voice later that week. John stood and stared out the windows of her office. The ocean was choppy; waves frothed and splashed against Atlantis as evening drew closer.

“I’m not pregnant,” he muttered, but there was no heat in his denial anymore. He’d said it so many times over the past months that the words had lost their weight.

“Because this isn’t a normal pregnancy by any standards, it’s going to be difficult, if it does… come to an end finally,” she continued, as if he hadn’t just denied the pregnancy was happening at all. “You’ve endured all these months of symptoms and this presence growing within you. To have it just be gone will be difficult, I’m sure.”

John didn’t answer and several minutes of silence passed.

“Have you spoken to Rodney about this? I know he told Doctor Beckett he feels this… presence as well. You’re going through this together. Sometimes I think you forget that.”

“Kind of hard to forget,” John said with a sigh. Rodney had been one step behind him on all symptoms, but the past month he’d caught up. Now they were on the same track, blindly hurtling towards something that couldn’t be identified or avoided.

He made a slow pacing circuit around the room. The presence wasn’t something John liked to talk about. “Have you seen that movie ‘Harvey’?” He asked.

Heightmeyer studied him for a moment. “Yes, a man and his imaginary friend, the six-foot rabbit.”

“Yeah, James Stewart. Good actor.”

She stared at him seriously. “Is that what you think this is, John? Just imagination?”

He shrugged one shoulder, leaned against the wall and focused on the ocean below once more. Maybe it would have been a good idea to get Rodney in on the sessions. Rodney would do all the talking for the both of them, like he always did.

Something stirred within him. The other consciousness waking, poking at his thoughts then fading. It was almost like Atlantis, except this was more aware, curious and trusting. “I don’t know what it is. But it’s part of me now,” he said with a small smile that couldn’t be held back.

That night John didn’t sleep well. The bed was too small. It was never a problem before but that night it kept him awake. Something was making him jumpy and anxious. He tried to burn off the energy with a late night run and it worked for a while. After he returned to his quarters and showered, he passed out for an hour. Then just as suddenly he woke again.

Tentatively he prodded at the presence in the back of his head. There?

Long seconds passed with no response. When the small nudge of otherness finally tapped back at him John allowed himself to breathe again. But it wasn’t right. It wasn’t the strong connection that had grown over the last several months. It was weaker and something else he couldn’t put a name to.

“Crap!” He threw his pillow at the wall and climbed out of bed, every nerve on edge. It was as if he’d had far too much caffeine and an injection of adrenaline to top it off. The halls of Atlantis were empty as he made his way to the infirmary. Long before he reached it though Rodney’s voice drifted out into the hallway.

“What do you mean calm down? Something’s wrong with me and you can’t tell me what! I will _not_ calm down!”

John considered going back to his room, just enduring another sleepless night. But Rodney’s voice had a certain hitch in it that propelled him forward.

Rodney was sitting on the edge of an exam table, looking oddly vulnerable in his blue robe, arms crossed over his chest. He appeared to be on the path to imminent meltdown.

“Hey,” John said softly and a nurse looked up gratefully from her laptop at a nearby station.

“Colonel Sheppard,” she smiled and Rodney snorted. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“I was just having some trouble sleeping,” he answered then glanced back to Rodney. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Apparently nothing. Massive panic attack at 2:00 in the morning for no reason at all. But otherwise just fine, thanks.”

They sat together while the nurse dug up something to help the both of them get some rest. “What’s happening?” Rodney asked quietly.

“I don’t know,” John answered.

“I have this feeling…” Rodney trailed off before finishing his thought. His eyes seemed to take up half his face. John almost reached over to pull him into an embrace; anything to comfort and calm him.

The radio in his ear clicked and Lorne’s tense voice was suddenly in John’s head. “Sir? Colonel Sheppard?”

Rodney must have heard too; his eyes moved as if listening.

John answered, “Yeah? What’s up?”

“I think I need you to come down here to the lower east levels. Bring Doctor McKay and Beckett if you can get them.”

“What’s wrong?” Rodney asked into his own mic.

“Dr. McKay? Zelenka said you sent him down here to check things out again? He asked me to come along and we’ve found… Well, let’s just say it’s a little more than an energy blip.”

John had never seen Rodney run so fast to get to a destination. He looked ridiculous with his blue robe flying out behind him. Somehow they convinced a still half-asleep Beckett to join them and were down in the chilled atmosphere of the lower eastern levels before John could catch his breath. He didn’t know what Rodney’s rush was but it was in him too. Urgency.

Beckett, breathing heavily, caught up as they approached the room, the original room from so many months previous. John shared a look of unease with Rodney as they drew closer to the doorway.

Lorne was there with Zelenka and a few other scientists John didn’t immediately recognize. All of them hovered around the center of the room.

“–told you not to touch it yet,” Zelenka rebuffed Lorne, who was looking slightly guilty. “Who knows what could happen.”

“I didn’t touch. I tapped lightly. Besides, someone needs to get him out.”

“Touching, tapping. Same thing,” Zelenka said, breaking off when he noticed the new arrivals. “Rodney! Finally! Get over here and look,” he shoved Lorne out of the way of what appeared to be a large formation of sparkling, multicolored crystals. John’s breath caught at the brilliance it put off within the low illumination of the room. Every single color of the light spectrum and a few more he’d never seen before.

“This wasn’t here before,” Rodney murmured in awe, pressing past John so he could get to it first.

“I know,” Zelenka replied with barely concealed excitement, pushing his glasses up on his nose. The room fell silent as John and Rodney came to stand at the formation. It was what was inside the cocoon shaped center that clearly had the room in a buzz of excitement.

A small pink infant, sleeping in a perfect fetal pose. No blankets, no note, nothing surrounding him but crystals. John’s first thought was of Superman then stupidly he wondered if the Ancients knew of Krypton.

No one was talking; all eyes were on John and Rodney, waiting for a reaction. John managed to tear his eyes from the little one inside long enough to glance at Rodney who was transfixed, not moving at all.

“How did it get here?” John heard himself whisper.

“We don’t know, sir,” Lorne answered. “Didn’t know if it was safe to take him out of there either.”

Beckett, having finally made his way through the group, let out a gasp at the sight, “Oh my…” Despite immediate protesting from Zelenka, he reached in and gathered up the sleeping infant.

“Is he breathing?” Rodney demanded, having finally found his own voice. John didn’t have a lot of experience with babies but it seemed to him the kid should have been flailing around screaming or something.

Beckett didn’t answer, his ear was pressed to the tiny chest, the head cradled in one hand. “Aye, he’s breathing, poor little lamb. How did he get here, all alone?” He accepted Lorne’s coat and wrapped the baby up with an expert skill that suggested he had experience in handling newborns.

“We don’t know,” Zelenka explained hastily. “I was in the labs working late and Rodney radioed, insisting I check into this area of the city. I called Major Lorne and we came down and found him here in this… thing.”

John ached to reach out and touch the dark, silky tuft of hair on the little head but restrained himself, afraid to admit what was really happening and what everyone was thinking.

He and Rodney shared a nervous look.

“Is he going to be alright?” John managed to ask, voice tight in his throat.

“I don’t know yet,” Beckett answered. “I’m taking him back to the infirmary. Warm him up, get some fluids in him.” He was already half-way to the door before John thought to follow, leaving Rodney behind to deal with the crystal formation discovery.

~~~

It took months and months after Andy’s death for John to get past the dull anger always underneath the surface.

The well of frustration within him threatened to overflow every minute of the day. What he wanted was for things to be normal again, for people to stop giving him sad looks in the halls, well meaning and awkward condolences.

They continued on, pretending everything was normal. Went on missions, fought the Wraith, dealt with personnel changes on Atlantis. But nothing was ever normal again.

On P3X-229 John was sure he saw Andy in one of the village children. The same dark hair, the same curve to his cheek, the same half-skip in his step.

It wasn’t him of course. But Teyla, who was beside John when the boy darted between them, looked as if she’d seen the same ghost. She stopped speaking to the village elder for a moment and stared at John, perhaps afraid he’d have a sudden meltdown right there. He gave her a stiff smile and she returned it before continuing her talk with the elder.

John spent the rest of the mission torn between wanting to tell Rodney about the boy and shielding him from it. When he saw the kid again it clearly was not Andy, the eyes weren’t the same sky-blue, the lashes not as thick and dark, no silky tufts of cowlicks at all.

~~~

John and Rodney were looking into the plastic-incubator, trying to wrap their minds around the idea that an infant born from nothing at all shared their DNA. But it was undeniable and Beckett had run the blood tests three times.

To say they were in a state of shock was a vast understatement.

It seemed like everyone in the city made an excuse to drop by and see the new arrival. Carson had to send out a mass e-mail to all personnel, asking that they please refrain from unscheduled drop-in visits.

“He just sleeps,” Ronon observed, looming over the incubator.

“Babies need to sleep a lot,” Teyla said with an amused smile. “They grow so fast in the first stages of life.”

John found himself fascinated by the little rose petal lips set perfectly under a small button nose.

“Two fathers. Only in the Pegasus galaxy,” Rodney muttered, eyes fixed on the sleeping bundle.

“He’s definitely like no other child,” Beckett added, hands stuffed in the pockets of his white coat. “Still weak, but improving quite rapidly.” He looked proud and tired.

Something felt wrong to John though. Not just that he was suddenly the father of a child with Rodney McKay, which was weird enough. The presence at the back of his mind was gone and he missed it with a dull ache. Perhaps it was in this baby boy now. He kept poking unconsciously where it used to be; it was like a tooth suddenly missing and his tongue wouldn’t stop worrying at the spot it used to be in. He felt empty.

“What will you name him?” Elizabeth asked when she dropped by the infirmary the next day.

“Kal-El.” Rodney said with a proud smirk.

John managed to take his eyes off the sleeping babe long enough to give Rodney a skeptical look. “No.”

“Fine,” Rodney huffed. “What do you suggest?”

John thought. He’d actually always thought a son of his would be named John, like his father and like him. But Rodney would never go for it. Two fathers kind of put a damper on the paternal tradition of names. He might end up with something like John Meredith Sheppard-McKay.

“Harvey?” he said.

Rodney gave him the look of skepticism this time. But Rodney’s next suggestion wasn’t any better. “Bruce. You know, like Bruce Wayne.”

“Cash?” John countered.

Rodney stared at him with no response at all.

“How about Andrew?” Elizabeth said.

So it was Andrew Sheppard-McKay. They immediately took to calling him Andy because Andrew just felt too adult.

He was small and didn’t grow too quickly. Beckett kept him in the infirmary for the first few weeks of life. Neither John nor Rodney knew what to do with a baby, so it seemed like a perfect solution to leave him there.

John visited at night if they weren’t off planet. “You can hold him, you know,” Beckett said one evening when John dropped by.

“Uh… No, no. He’s sleeping. Don’t want to wake him.” Truth be told, John hadn’t allowed himself to get too attached. Later he wondered if something inside of him knew what the future held, if he was trying to shield himself from the pain.

“Come on, Colonel. Hold him,” Becket scooped up the little guy and deftly tucked him into John’s stiff arms. “Just relax. He won’t break. He needs to be held more, you know. Human touch is important to growth.”

Before John knew it he was pushed down into a chair and left alone with his son cradled awkwardly in his arms. Andy appeared to be having a dream about nursing because his lips were making sucking motions and small noises of contentment were emanating from him. John could relate; he often dreamed of breasts.

Andy’s relation to John and Rodney was evident. He’d been gifted with an impressive head of dark hair and lush lashes lay against his pale cheeks. When open, his eyes were blue-grey and round. Beckett said they could change color as he aged but John suspected they wouldn’t. He did on occasion scream bloody murder when hungry, which John assumed came from Rodney’s side of the DNA.

Weeks passed and both John and Rodney made random but continuous visits to the infirmary, sometimes together after evening meals, or first thing in the morning before briefings. For a solid week they were gone on a mission and returned to find Andrew a few pounds heavier and slightly more alert.

It was almost like they had a new puppy. But eventually Carson admitted he had way too much work of his own and couldn’t keep Andy there.

“Caring for your offspring was not in my job description when I signed up for this expedition,” he informed them one evening, gently but firmly settling Andrew into Rodney’s arms and handing John a bag of baby supplies. “Go on then. Take him back to your rooms. He’s plenty healthy now, no need for him to be hanging around an infirmary all day.”

“What? You’re just letting us leave with him?” Rodney stammered, suddenly pale.

“Aye, Rodney. You’re his parents, he belongs with you.”

“What if we drop him or something?” Rodney said, stepping carefully towards the door as Beckett urged them out.

“You won’t drop him. You’ll get the hang of it right quick I’m certain. If you need anything I’m a radio click away.”

The problem wasn’t just that they didn’t know what to do with a baby. They didn’t live together and some type of schedule had to be arranged. “You take him,” Rodney said, trying to hand him off.

John backed up, baby bag sliding off his shoulder. “You’re better with him.”

“Oh please. He’s four weeks old. Ronon could be better with him at this point.”

“Are you insulting Ronon? Because I think he probably would be better with him actually. Maybe we should go to his room.”

Rodney rolled his eyes and settled Andrew closer to his chest, resigned to the fact that John wasn’t going to take him. “Ronon went with Teyla to visit the mainland, remember.”

A few people were coming down the hall towards them and John could only imagine the cooing and ogling that would take place when they got closer. “Come on, this way,” he said, turning the opposite direction. “My room is closer.”

That first night they stayed awake in John’s room while Andrew slept on his bed with pillows and chairs all around the sides to prevent him from rolling off. Rodney had an inexplicable panic attack over the possibility of SIDS. It then freaked John out so much that he couldn’t sleep either.

“Is he breathing?” Rodney asked for the tenth time.

“Rodney, how should I know? Stick a mirror under his nose or something.” John wished they had known this would be thrust upon them tonight. He would have had some coffee after dinner.

“Poke him,” Rodney urged in a hushed but urgent tone.

“You poke him!” John glared at Rodney but couldn’t help eyeing Andy closely for signs of breathing. He’d been remarkably still the past twenty minutes.

Rodney poked gently. When nothing happened he poked with a little more force. A small whimper sounded, blue eyes blinked open and looked up blearily for a moment. He wiggled a bit then wailed in clear dismay at being prematurely woken.

Somehow they got him back to sleep, only to have him wake several times more throughout the night, demanding a bottle or changing. Rodney insisted the bottles must be prepared in just the right way or he might puke it all back up. John absently wondered how Rodney knew such things but was too exhausted to ask.

“Don’t use too many of those,” Rodney said as he leaned over and critiqued John’s diaper changing method.

“What, baby wipes? Do you think I’ll smother him if I use too many?” John snarled back, making sure to take a few extra wipes from the little packet just to annoy Rodney.

“We have a limited supply you know. Can’t exactly make a midnight run to Walgreens for extra diapers and wipes.”

By morning it was clear they were going to have to get one of the suites of rooms reserved for guests and move in together. They would have to take shifts while Andy slept, to make sure he was always breathing. Something had to be arranged for when they were off-world on missions; possibly Elizabeth or Carson could take him then.

In that one night John discovered why new parents always looked slightly crazed.

~~~

It was Rodney who broke first.

They were out on the mainland, helping Teyla and her people build a new enclosure for the community gatherings. That evening there was a cook-out on the beaches nearby the settlement. Ronon and Teyla shared a plate of food beside an open pit, and laughed at a joke Jinto was telling them.

John, having finished his own plate, went out on the beach where a few children and adults were taking an evening stroll or just sitting on the sand. Rodney’s unmistakable form was down a ways and John felt, as he often did lately, a pull to be near him. As he made his way along the sand, the warm laughter and chatter of Athosians drifted away and water lapped gently at the shoreline.

Rodney hardly acknowledged John’s arrival at his side. He was on an outcrop of rocks, watching the sun sink below the ocean horizon. He appeared deceptively strong and sturdy there; the line of his jaw was sharp and masculine, with just a shadow of evening stubble, which John hadn’t yet allowed himself to admit to liking.

The last time they were on this beach Andy was with them, running circles over the sand with bare feet, arms spread like an airplane, pretending to fly along the shoreline. John very distinctly remembered the infectious spark of his laughter. Only now and then would he stop to catch his breath. He was still strong then.

Now they stood there, just the two of them, and John realized Rodney was crying, discretely ducking his head, wiping at his eyes once before looking back out to the ocean. John didn’t ask why. The reason was obvious.

“I keep trying to rationalize it,” Rodney finally said, after the sun was completely below the horizon and a light wind ruffled over them. “But there’s just no practical meaning. No justifiable reason. He was here and now he’s gone. That’s it.”

John nodded. There really was no lesson. It was just fucked up.

Rodney leaned a little closer and John closed the distance, pressing his forehead to Rodney’s temple, closing his eyes and feeling the breeze pick up off the waves. Rodney’s skin was warm and he smelled of the day’s sunshine, hard work from the manual labor and something else John could only identify as Rodney.

“He was ours,” John whispered.

~~~

John fell in love with Rodney and Andy at the same time.

It was the day he returned home from an exhaustive training mission with some new marines. He found Rodney in their rooms, sitting on the floor, sunlight spilling in from the tall windows. Andy was stretched out on his back; under him were the muted colors of the baby blanket Teyla traded for on one of their recent missions. He was enthralled with beams of sunlight falling through the slatted window blinds.

Rodney talked him through it. “Got your eye on that light, don’t you? You know that’s actually an electromagnetic spectrum being emitted from a massive star about nine light minutes away from this planet.”

Andrew burbled in an approximation of understanding, or possibly just gas.

Rodney, oblivious to John’s presence, continued on in a gentle amused tone John had never really heard from him before. He went into ever more detailed explanations about light spectrums and Andy beamed, kicking little bootie clad feet out like it was the most impressive thing he’d ever heard.

John’s heart was instantly in his throat and he had to leave the rooms as quietly as he entered. He went down to walk the halls and balconies of Atlantis and passed several hours that way before returning to find Andy down for the night and Rodney on the couch tapping away at his laptop.

“I thought you were coming back early. Where were you?” Rodney said, glancing up from his work.

“Had to take a look at a few things first,” he stammered, convinced Rodney was reading his every thought. _I freaked out and realized that I love you and we’re living together with a kid on another planet in another galaxy._

Rodney gave him a light smile and returned to his typing. “There’s leftover whatever the hell the mess was serving for dinner tonight,” he waved absently towards the kitchen. “I think Andy’s getting a tooth, he’s drooling all over the place. Who knew one kid could produce so much saliva?”

John nodded a bit in commiseration. It was domestic and warm and something he never expected to have. Terrified and thrilled all at once, he went to check on his sleeping son.

When Andy turned two Jeannie made a return visit to Atlantis to help on a project in the labs. She was enthralled with her new nephew and he stuck to her like glue the entire time. This was fine with John and Rodney, who took any opportunity to get a break from their stubborn little offspring.

“He’s just two. It’s normal,” Jeannie said one day as they sat in the mess hall with Ronon and Teyla, waiting for Rodney to join them for the evening meal.

“He’s defiant and into everything. He stuffed his toy rabbit down one of the vents in Rodney’s lab the other day.” John scowled as the two-year-old in question stood in his seat and attempted to climb up onto the table.

“Eat now? Eat now? Eat, daddy?” he chattered.

“We’re waiting for your other father, buddy,” John wrestled him back off the table top and into his seat. Ronon reached under the table to pick up the plastic spoon Andy threw earlier. “Eat your yogurt while we wait,” John said, placing a new spoon before him.

Andrew glanced at the plastic container in front of him and did a perfect imitation of Rodney looking horrified. John sighed in frustration while Jeannie laughed. Ronon and Teyla, as always, appeared amused by John’s plight.

John remembered that day most clearly, because it was the last day things felt normal. The last day before life started spiraling in directions he never really managed to get a grip on.

It was almost instantaneous. One minute Andy was racing around Rodney’s lab, pretending to be an airplane, the next minute he was on the floor passed out. There was no warning, no trip and fall, no cry of pain. Nothing.

As John scooped him up and raced to the infirmary, with Rodney on his heels, he tried to remember a time when he felt such cold alarm but nothing came to mind. Not when his Black Hawk went down in Afghanistan or when Rodney sank down to the bottom of the ocean in a wrecked Jumper. Not even when Kolya held him prisoner and allowed a Wraith to feed on him over and over. Nothing compared to this.

Rodney was silent as Beckett hooked Andrew up to an IV, took blood, ran tests and promised them he was still breathing and stable.

In John’s experience, Rodney only went silent when he was terrified, which was both a curse and a blessing. On the one hand John wished Rodney would be himself and rail against Carson for answers, demand that he work faster to find the cause. On the other hand John didn’t think he could handle a loud and panic-stricken Rodney at this point.

Andrew remained unconscious through the night and no one slept. Ronon and Teyla joined them in the private room Carson moved Andy into.

As morning approached Beckett entered, looking just as exhausted as the rest of them. Teyla lifted her head from Rodney’s shoulder and Ronon stood abruptly, offering up his seat to the doctor.

“Well, I’ve found something,” Carson started off. From there John’s hearing faded under the rush of blood beating in his ears. He caught phrases, “Something in his DNA” and “Wasn’t there when he was a babe” and “irreparable” and then “I’m sorry.”

John stared at Carson, waiting, waiting for more than that.

“What?” Rodney asked.

Carson took a breath and glanced away, towards Andy tucked into a bed that dwarfed him. “I said he’s got an anomaly in his DNA. It’s in the ATA gene. Normally I could try gene therapy but at this point it’s just too far along to make a difference I’m afraid. It’s deteriorating at a rapid pace.”

No one spoke for quite a while. John thought this couldn’t possibly be real, this wasn’t happening. Rodney apparently was on the same wavelength, because he just kept staring at Beckett like he’d grown another head.

Teyla cleared her throat softly, “How long do you believe he has, Dr. Beckett?”

“Oh… I couldn’t say for sure. A few months, another year. I can prolong it but I can’t stop it.” Carson looked genuinely miserable.

“Prolong it. Prolong it forever,” Rodney demanded.

Carson didn’t reply.

It took several of Carson’s “treatments” before Andy opened his eyes and slowly returned to some semblance of his old demanding self. A week later he was released back into John and Rodney’s care.

John found denial to be the best course of action and pretended everything was as it was before the infirmary ordeal. Rodney took the opposite position and hovered over Andrew night and day. He refused to go on any further missions and sent one of the other scientists in his place.

Sometimes in the middle of the night, Andy would wake and Rodney would always be the first one in. John would find them curled on the little bed together, Andy’s head under Rodney’s chin as he stroked unruly dark hair and talked quietly until the little guy fell back asleep.

John was almost jealous of the obvious and deep connection between them, but Andy also became frustrated with Rodney’s new clingier attitude and started acting out. After one particularly impressive temper-tantrum John had to pull Rodney aside and broach the topic.

“He’s not going to die if you take your eyes off him for a few hours now and then.”

Rodney lifted his chin and narrowed blue eyes at John. “I know that.”

“So, stop.”

“Stop? Stop watching him?” Rodney’s voice raised on each word until John was sure Andy would wake up from his nap. Rodney lowered his tone, but cold fury was still there. “He’s dying, John! How can you _not_ be watching so closely? He’ll be gone one day and this is all we have.”

From then on John never told Rodney to stop hovering.

~~~

When they lost a young marine on P3X-159 John hit total meltdown. Every bit of frustration and rage came to the surface as he grabbed the nearest P-90 and charged into the line of fire. He brought far more damage than necessary to the few Wraith unfortunate enough to still be within firing range. Even after they were on the ground dead he reloaded and fired into them over and over until Ronon had to physically restrain him and pull the weapon from his hands.

He’d sobbed like a baby against Ronon’s chest while Teyla spoke softly to him and Rodney stood close by, looking like a ghost.

The few remaining marines were silent and edgy around him the rest of the mission and he couldn’t blame them. Once your commander goes insane what hope do you have? When they returned to Atlantis he placed Lorne in temporary command for the next few weeks.

“What happened?” Heightmeyer asked at his next scheduled session, as if she hadn’t read the reports and didn’t know exactly what happened.

“I freaked.” John shrugged and let his head fall back against the couch.

“Why?”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “Because my kid is dead. Why do you think?”

She watched him closely, light from the setting sun outside reflected off her hair, giving it an auburn tint. “What was Rodney doing?”

John blinked at her. “He was watching me.”

For several long minutes they listened to the ocean outside and the tick of a small antique clock Heightmeyer kept on her desk. “I’m just wondering John, why you allowed Ronon and Teyla to comfort you instead of turning to Rodney for it. He’s lost as much as you have.”

The truth was he just couldn’t bring himself to burden Rodney with any of this. Rodney had his own emotional breakdown to work through; he didn’t need to be dealing with John’s too.

Besides, up until this recent incident, John had been doing a great job of burying it all down and living through each day as it came.

“Rodney has enough to deal with.”

Heightmeyer actually looked frustrated for a fleeting moment before her usual professional mask returned. “You know, it’s not uncommon for the death of a child to cause an emotional rift in the relationship of the parents.”

“We’re not a couple,” John said blankly.

Heightmeyer made a soft sighing sound, her mouth a tight line. “John, try to talk more with Rodney.”

~~~

Somewhere between ages three and four Andy obtained a personality. Not that he didn’t have one before, but now John could see in him a flicker of the adult he might have become. A strong-willed, brave little genius, who could possibly be a brilliant pilot. That last part could just have been John’s own prejudice showing though.

“Not that color, daddy. This one,” Andy ordered, yanking a blue crayon out of John’s fingers and shoving a broken yellow one into its place. “Ducks are yellow, not blue.”

“Oh… thought they were blue,” John replied lightly. Andrew looked up from his own coloring book with a perfect impression of Rodney’s ‘WTF Sheppard?’ look.

Sometimes John thought messy hair and pointy ears was all Andrew inherited from him. Then he’d do something like childishly flirt with Teyla and Elizabeth or beg John to take him out to fly fast as possible in a Puddle Jumper. In those few instances John could see a bit more of himself in there too.

“Daddy is coming home early too?” Andy asked, referring to Rodney. They never managed to impress a distinction between them as far as the ‘daddy’ title went. Andy called them both daddy and somehow they knew by inflection of tone just which daddy he meant.

“Yeah, he wants to go with us to see Carson for your shots.”

Andrew stopped coloring, blue eyes fixed on John intently. For a moment John thought he was going to be severely reprimanded for trying to color a tree orange.

“Why?” Andy asked, eyes huge. He’d been losing weight at a rapid pace and looked like a small, malnourished elf. No amount of bribery would bring his appetite back.

“Why what?” John replied.

“Why is Carson giving me shots?”

This was a trap and John knew he was walking right into it. “Come on buddy, you know why. We’ve explained this. The shots help you stay strong.”

“But not really, daddy. Not anymore, right?”

John found a green crayon and colored in the trunk with hard strokes.

“Right?” Andrew demanded.

“Sure they help,” John lied. When he could bring himself to glance up again, Andrew was still fixated on him. They shared a drawn out minute of clear understanding, the kind John had only up to that moment shared with Rodney.

Andy broke first, reaching over for John’s green crayon. “I want to fly in the Jumper after, and I want you to go under the water to find whales.”

John couldn’t refuse such a simple request.

That evening, after Andrew refused to eat more than a few bites of mashed potatoes and collapsed into bed from exhaustion, Carson stopped by.

John tensed at his arrival. It was unfair, but he hated Carson sometimes. He should have been thankful for the amount of effort and determination Beckett put into keeping Andrew relatively healthy for as long as he had. There were so many other dire issues to keep up with in the middle of the Pegasus galaxy. But it was difficult to keep that in perspective when he brought bad news to them more often than good.

“He’s losing strength fast and just not responding as well as he used to. In fact,” Carson paused then glanced from John to Rodney.

 _Shut up_ , John thought as hard as possible. _Shut up and don’t tell us anything. Don’t say any more!_

Carson, oblivious to John’s thought waves, continued after taking a deep breath. “I really feel it’s time you prepare yourselves and him for what will come.”

“How do you know?” Rodney demanded. He always asked this question when Carson added to the list of doom. He drilled for details and proof and there was never any way to discount what Carson told them. Most times John had seen whatever new symptom was being diagnosed long before Carson himself brought it to their attention.

Carson looked equally miserable. “Rodney, I’ve told you this would come eventually. His body is too weak. I only wish…” Carson trailed off. He’d said this before. John had heard it so many times; it became a litany in his head whenever he saw Carson. “I wish I could have seen this coming when he was a wee babe. I could have repaired it before it grew into this.”

It was a long night after Carson left. Rodney tapped absently on his laptop in between checking on Andy who had been sleeping fitfully the last few months. John tried to get through another chapter of War and Peace, but after reading the same paragraph five times he gave up.

They migrated to the couch and watch a DVD of Battlestar Galactica episodes on Rodney’s laptop. John skirted around the obvious elephant in the room, but after returning from a final check on Andy, Rodney jumped into it.

“Carson’s right. We have to tell him. We have to prepare him.”

“What?” John stared. “He’s four-years-old! How?”

Rodney lifted his chin slightly and looked anyplace but at John. “I don’t know. I just don’t think we should gloss over it with him anymore.”

“We don’t gloss over it!” John hissed and immediately berated himself when a flustered then helpless look passed over Rodney’s face. “I’m sorry,” he muttered. I love you, he thought. Please let us get through this, he prayed.

“I think he knows anyway,” Rodney whispered much later, as they sat closer on the couch and pretended not to notice they were pressed together shoulder to thigh. The screensaver on the laptop was spiraling through stars at an alarming rate.

“I know,” John agreed quietly.

“Yesterday he told me he wanted us to get a cat. Said he thought we should have something else to take care of, in case he’s not around.” Rodney’s head was a weight against John’s shoulder.

John sighed, exhaustion finally getting the better of him. He allowed himself to relax a little more against Rodney’s familiar form. “Maybe he just wants a cat.”

“Hmm.” Rodney murmured.

~~~

On what would have been Andy’s fifth birthday, John avoided reality by ordering mandatory training for the lower enlisted out on P2X-559. Ronon and Teyla joined him, Rodney thankfully declined, preferring to spend the day buried under work in the labs.

It was easy to lose himself in physical activity. When he called an end to the training late that evening and they returned to Atlantis, John was just wiped out enough to crash for the night but stopped by the mess hall first for a quick snack.

It was empty, except for the cooks and one other night-owl. Zelenka, sat alone at a far table with a plate containing the remnants of chocolate pie and a notebook computer. Pie sounded like just the thing and John nabbed a plate from the open dessert counter.

Zelenka waved him over and John, who whished to be anything but alone with his thoughts right now, willingly joined him.

John worked on his pie while Zelenka worked on his notebook computer. Few words were spoken and it was an easy silence between them. John was thinking he might just make it through the day after all.

Then, as he was scraping up the last bit of graham cracker crust and chocolate pudding Zelenka looked over his glasses. “Nice of the cooks to make his favorite, in memory, yes?”

It was as if a lead weight dropped on top of him and John had to forcefully swallow the last bit. Chocolate pudding pie; Andrew’s favorite. Of course it was. And of course the cooks made it on his birthday every year.

“Colonel?”

John glanced up from his plate, forcing a smile at Zelenka. “Yeah, nice of them.” But Radek was a smart man, even in things outside science. He appeared to have something to say but shut his mouth before giving words to it.

“I have to get to bed,” John stood, preparing to gather up his empty plate.

“I miss him. He used to ask me questions, you know?” Zelenka said suddenly, eyes intense and one hand almost reaching across the table to hold John there. But he didn’t touch, just reached then stopped when John looked at him. “Andy… I think he sometimes thought I was smarter than Rodney. Which I am of course but...” Zelenka shrugged with a small smile and John couldn’t help but return it.

“What did he talk to you about?” John asked, suddenly anxious to hear something, anything, about his son that he didn’t already know.

“Oh, whatever came to his mind really, he was a chatterbox like Rodney, you know?” John genuinely smiled at that, because Andy did love to talk and ask endless questions, as if he wanted to absorb everything possible in the short time he had.

When John returned to their rooms the silence was heavy. One light was left on for him in the kitchen.

After a quick shower he crawled into bed and prayed for sleep. An hour later he got up and made a circuit of the suite, coming to stand outside Rodney’s room, one hand raised to knock. But it seemed cruel to wake Rodney this late, when he was probably blissfully unconscious to reality.

He went to the closed door of Andy’s room instead and after only a small hesitation opened it. It was exactly as they last left it, mostly packed up and cleared of all memory. They had been planning to move into single rooms again but somehow hadn’t gotten around to it.

What wasn’t the same was Rodney asleep on Andrew’s bed. John’s heart stopped for a beat as he drank in the blue wash of moonlight bathing Rodney’s sleeping form. He was still in that day’s uniform, arms tucked under him and face turned towards the windows. There was the sound of a soft even snore every few seconds.

Not allowing himself to think, John crawled onto the small bed with him, stretching out on his back.

Rodney mumbled sleepily, lifted his head and took in John’s sudden appearance beside him. “Oh, uh… hi.” He rubbed at his eyes and rolled stiffly onto his side so he could see John more easily.

“Hi,” John answered a minute later. The airplane mobile was still hanging over the bed but there was no breeze in the room to move it.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Rodney said.

“Me either.”

This was possibly the most they had spoken to one another in the past week and John realized how much he missed hearing Rodney talk. He turned his head on the small pillow they shared, allowing himself to drown in Rodney’s gaze.

“I can’t remember what his voice sounded like and sometimes I forget his face,” John confessed in a whisper.

“He sounded like you on a helium balloon and we have pictures and video if you need to remember,” Rodney whispered back.

John turned his head again, staring back up at the mobile and blinking rapidly to will the tears away. Rodney placed a soft offering on his chest and John wrapped his hand around the familiar form of Harvey, holding him close to his heart. He burrowed against the other man and Rodney stroked his hair and whispered memories until John drifted into the first full night’s sleep he’d had in over six months.

~~~

The threats of Wraith, Replicators and the Genii felt hollow compared to what was happening back at home on Atlantis. But John kept going out on the missions, right up until the end. It was a cheap and cowardly escape. Rodney stayed behind every time, glued to Andrew’s bedside.

“Stop leaving us,” Rodney pleaded one night. He looked like hell, unshaven with dark circles under his eyes.

“Rodney, I’m not going to miss anything,” John countered, stabbing repeatedly at a juice box with a straw that was unwilling to go in.

“You’re missing all of it!” Rodney barked, yanking the box from John’s hands and smoothly inserting the straw. He stormed out of the kitchen to deliver it to their dying child.

John refused further missions.

Andy died in his own bed a few nights later. Asleep and drugged to the gills on pain meds, it was quick and effortless and just too damn easy. It shouldn’t have been so simple, there should have been something more to it, something to mark the event.

John was in a chair beside his bed and Rodney was stretched out beside Andrew. He saw it happen, watched as Andy simply failed to take another breath, and then another, until it was obvious he never would.

Rodney realized moments later, looked desperate for a millisecond then blank. Teyla and Ronon were there and John thanked God for it, not sure how they would have coped otherwise.

He left Andy’s room, then returned, then left again. It was unreal, like he was just sleeping in there. In the morning he would wake up, ask for toast, only eat a few bites and then demand Ronon carry him out onto the balcony so they could watch Atlantis wake up together. Or he would beg John for just one more flight in a Jumper.

The balcony outside seemed the best place for John to go. The ocean was dark under a clear night sky full of bright stars and a full moon.

Rodney was beside him and John couldn’t recall when he joined him, just that he was there now.

“Look,” Rodney pointed to the waves so far below and John scanned automatically, searching for whatever Rodney was trying to show him. He saw it a second later: whales. It wasn’t the mass migration they experienced so many years previous, but it was a large group and they were splashing tails in the water, circling below and swimming in some pattern only they understood.

~~~

A year to the day of Andrew’s death and John found himself standing in the empty corridors of the lower eastern city. The Genesis Room. It had been locked down for many years and only Rodney, John and possibly Elizabeth knew the combination to make the door slide open.

“What am I doing here, buddy?” John muttered to the door.

In the past six months shock and pain had dulled to something tolerable, except when these anniversary dates came around; then it all came crashing back.

Oddly, Rodney had been an anchor, grounding John to reality and keeping him from trying to escape the memories, inserting Andrew’s name in everyday conversation, and not letting John sink into a hole of depression. Because certainly Andy wouldn’t have wanted that.

Lately though John would replay Carson’s words in his head. “If only I’d found this when he was a wee babe. I could have fixed it.” On one occasion he cornered Carson, demanded, “If you had known what to look for? If you caught it early enough? You absolutely would have known how to fix it?”

“Of course.” Carson had been adamant about that.

John wondered if the cocoon of crystals was still in the room or if it dissolved back into where ever it came from. Thoughts like this plagued him and on this night something pulled him here to this room he hadn’t seen in over five years.

“Hey,” Rodney’s voice broke into John’s reverie.

He turned from the door to see Rodney’s approach. “You followed me again,” John accused.

“I did not… Okay, maybe I did. But only because you need to be followed sometimes.” Rodney smiled teasingly, glancing from John to the door and back again.

He looked good tonight, out of uniform, clean shaven and bright eyed. They were going to have dinner out on one of the balconies and watch for the whale families to swim past on their annual journey.

Together they turned back to the door. “Dinner is going to get cold up there,” Rodney said.

“I just wonder, you know? What would happen…” He glanced at Rodney with a small tilt to his head, a hint of a smile. John took one step towards the entrance panel, then two.

Rodney followed.

/fin


End file.
